


The Little Brother

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: satedan_grabass, Episode: s04e05 Travelers, Folklore, Hostage Situations, M/M, Sateda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When captured by renegade Travelers, Ronon tells John Satedan folktales to keep their spirits up... and for inspiration.  (Warning for coercion and threat of torture)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrynnH87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynnH87/gifts).



> Beta by Mific.
> 
> Written for the 2013 Satedan Grabass for brynnh87

Ronon didn't expect John to understand about the Little Brother. He was the most important character in Satedan folklore – the heart of what it meant to be Satedan – and Ronon thought an outsider didn't have the right cultural framework to appreciate the tales.

But when John talked to him about things from Earth Ronon felt like he knew John better, even if he didn't get the jokes or know why a move in a game was good. So every now and then Ronon tried to mess with John's head in return.

"I ever tell you about Little Brother and the missing village?" he said the first time, while he and John were doing one of the boring routine security sweeps through uninhabited towers.

John squinted at him, confused but curious. "Your little brother?"

Ronon shook his head. "He's a guy in Satedan stories," he explained. "There's always some kind of trouble, and Little Brother thinks of the plan that saves everyone. Usually by playing tricks."

"No one tells stories about the big brother?" John asked. Ronon knew he was teasing, the way he teased McKay. It meant John was interested.

"Big brothers inherit." Ronon wasn't going to get into all the laws about that, or the social upheaval that might have changed everything, if not for the Wraith. "They stay on the farms or run the shops. Who wants stories about that? Little brothers are soldiers and explorers."

He could see the question John wanted to ask, whether Ronon had been a little brother, but instead John brought the conversation back to the start. "How'd the village go missing?"

Teyla warned Ronon that John's people were like this: they felt it was intrusive and rude to ask personal questions. She believed that it was because the Atlantis expedition was made up of people whose clans on Earth were warring with each other. John's clan was the strongest, with many victories, Teyla said, which meant John and many of the soldiers serving under him were seen by the others almost the way her people thought of the Wraith. _They cannot talk about their pasts,_ Teyla explained. _The nuclear weapons we use against hive ships, John's Air Force has dropped on the clan of Dr Kusanagi. Hundreds of thousands died._ She shook her head, her fingers spelling out the numbers in trader's signs to make sure Ronon understood.

* * *

_The Ring turns, the story begins._

_Little Brother left his father's house to serve his people, and he went here and there, and he saw many things. He went south into the cold and north into the heat, but this story takes place in the East._

_Little Brother and his band came to a prosperous village, and the village head greeted them with this problem:_

_"Our fields are rich, our animals fat, and our houses many. We do not wish to leave this place and scatter, but we fear the Wraith. How can we stay together and yet live?"_

_Little Brother's Taskmaster brought his band together to think of an answer._

_The strongest said, "They should build high walls and make iron gates, and that will keep the Wraith away."_

_"No, said the Taskmaster. "For the Wraith carriages cast their nets from the sky."_

_The fastest said, "They should build their houses on wheels, and have teams of oxen to pull them away."_

_"No," said the Taskmaster. "The Wraith are faster than oxen." He looked at Little Brother, who was stretched out on the ground, half asleep in the grass. "What say you, Little Brother?"_

_Little Brother answered, "How clever the ants are! They reap their harvest on the surface, but keep their storerooms and homes under the ground. A man can walk all day over the plains and never know what great kingdoms exist under his feet."  
_

* * *

"I bet the Genii had a story like that," John said.

Ronon had shrugged. "Probably a Satedan told them."

Over the years, he told John most of the stories he remembered. How Little Brother fed a village with a radish and a copper coin, and how Little Brother crossed the desert. There were funny stories, too, which didn't have lessons, like Little Brother and the Wraith Skull, and Little Brother's Taskmaster's Headache. Most of the punchlines depended on Satedan word-play, but John always laughed first, along with Ronon, before asking why it was funny.

Which was typical of the constant mutual misunderstanding Ronon was used to in his relationship with the Lanteans, and John in particular. Instead of letting it become a frustration, he tried to see what John looked for in his team, the ways their different perceptions were tactically advantageous. He and John and Rodney and Teyla all had cultural blind spots and insights; Ronon was surprised at first how John kept letting his assumptions trip him up. But then he found out how John got his position and figured that all things considered, John was doing an okay job of taking his team's differences and forging a band which was stronger than its individual components.

Ronon had been taught that a really good Taskmaster was able to do that without making themself the linchpin holding the band together. John always demanded that his team be able to work just as well without him. Ronon respected that.

He just hated putting it into practice.

He and John were attacked by a group of renegade Travelers when they'd gone offworld for a weekend of surfing and slow, noisy making out under the stars – even more than the sex, Ronon liked not having the constant fear of being seen or overheard. But they'd been stunned as soon as the Ring had closed behind them, which meant there must be a spy on Atlantis – which Ronon hoped didn't mean a rescue mission would be undermined, because when he woke he was on board a Traveler ship, unsure how much time had passed or where he was.

Of their three captors, John knew the shorter man named Bekon, but unfortunately Bekon knew a lot more about John. He'd made a point of capturing Ronon as well so he'd have a hostage, assuming correctly that while John might be defiant if only his life was on the line, he wasn't going to risk them hurting his team mate, not when all Bekon wanted was for John to get some of the ship's crappy Ancient systems online.

Bekon had a butcher's chopper, and he had his two guards strap Ronon down with the blade readied over his right forearm.

"You have five chances to fuck up," Bekon told John. "Two hands, two feet, and his dick."

John had been trying to be reasonable, asking to talk to Larrin or Katana, talking about cooperation and his willingness to forgive how they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. The butcher's blade shut him up fast. Bekon had his guards unchain John from the pipes by the door and ordered him to get up on the interface platform at the center of the room.

A couple hours into the repair work, it was obvious to Ronon that Bekon was in over his head. Nothing he tried worked the way it was supposed to, and he'd twice nearly shut down ventilation. The two with him looked pissed, like they'd followed him on the assumption he knew his way around Ancient tech and now they were finding out the truth. It reminded Ronon a lot of that time with Ford and his men.

Bekon stuck some crystals in a tray upside down, and Ronon saw John frown, eyeing him and the knife, and the crystal array, and Bekon. Probably trying to figure out whether it was better to piss Bekon off by pointing out his mistake, or to keep silent and – after things blew up or broke – be accused of sabotage.

John didn't say anything. In the center of the platform there was a lectern, like the one in Atlantis that controlled the holographic history display. John was told to initialize it. His back was to Ronon when he put his palms down, but Ronon saw the quick snake-strike of electricity, making John's hair stand on end even as it knocked him backwards off his feet, against the railing and off the paltform. He hit the ground hard, not even trying to catch himself, and Ronon strained against his bonds to see if he was even breathing.

Bekon kicked John until he pulled himself to his feet, shaking his head and looking around in a daze. John met Ronon's eyes and opened his mouth, but then he focused on the knife and turned to Bekon instead.

That was the first time.

Ronon had to watch as Bekon tried two more times to get the lectern working. The last time he fell, John took a long time getting up; Ronon could see him swaying and adjusting his footing . He looked drunk, and even though he tried to pay attention and follow Bekon's furious orders, Ronon braced himself for the butcher's blade.

He was saved by the other guys, who told Bekon to call it a day, and dragged John and Ronon down a narrow corridor to the storeroom they'd repurposed as a cell. Ronon asked for burn cream and bandages, but he wasn't surprised when he was refused. Even though they'd stolen the ship, possibly from Larrin herself, proper preparation seemed to have been given low priority. Ronon said thanks anyway, and asked their names.

The lanky woman was Mahin, and the man who looked constipated was Lula. Ronon didn't have any tea for a quick-and-dirty rite of introduction, but he nodded at John and said, "He's Sheppard. I'm Ronon Dex. This your ship?"

Lula looked even more sour. "Is now," he said, and slid the door shut hastily.

"How you doing?" Ronon asked John, who was standing with one hand braced on the wall.

John said, "Fine," and gave Ronon a small smile, like he knew that Ronon knew he was lying.

Ronon asked to see his hands – the palms were red but not blistered, which meant infection was one less worry – and checked his head for concussion. He didn't like the way John's reaction time was too slow when flinching, or that the simple eye test made John dizzy.

"My head hurts like a motherfucker," John admitted, and lowered himself to the floor. Ronon sat down next to him and tugged until John was leaning back against him, in the circle of Ronon's arms. "Tell me a story?"

* * *

_The Ring turns, the story begins._

_Once in their travels, Little Brother's band came to a beautiful mansion with clean white walls, surrounded by trees heavy with a harvest of plump orange hardfruit. The owners of the mansion were a partnered man and woman and their daughter. The man and woman had clear unwrinkled skin and dark curling hair, and eyes white and clear of the discolor of age. The daughter was plump and smiling and of an age to find a partner of her own._

_"Stay with us for the night," the man invited them. "I can see that you might be suitable for my only daughter. "You," he told the Taskmaster, "are wise. And you have companions who are strong and fast. Choose a challenger and should you complete the task I set, you can live out your days in luxury and comfort."_

_As soon as they were shown to their room, the fastest of the band and the strongest set to arguing over which would win the daughter's partnership. Angry words led to pushing and shoving, and when hands fell to belt knives the Taskmaster ordered them both to be silent._

_"We will all take the challenge," the Taskmaster said. "Except for Little Brother, who is not fastest or strongest or wise."_

_The next day, the man gave them the task of entering a cavern deep in the mountains and bringing forth the treasure there without striking a light. Little Brother hid himself until the Taskmaster and the fastest and the strongest set out, and then he snuck along behind them. They went into the woods, and crossed a swift river, and leapt a gorge, and killed a wild pig with tusks as long as a man's arm. Finally they came to the cavern._

_The strongest entered first, carrying a stout walking stick to use to find his way. Little Brother slipped in behind him, and pulled a hardfruit from his bag. He'd hollowed the inside out to carry a coal and made a plug from his metal cup-cap. Removing the cap, he blew on the coal until it glowed and used the cap to shine down a ring of light. He saw that the stones littering the cavern floor were actually human bones, and when he shone the light up he saw the beautiful daughter in her true Wraith form. The strongest struck her down in rage and cut her head off._

_The band carried her head to the beautiful mansion, where the man and the woman wept._

_"She gave us youth and strength and beauty," they said. "She was kind to us."_

_So Little Brother's band dragged them from their home in bonds, and brought them to the Court of Justice, where they were shown to all as an example of how Wraith worship turns men into monsters._

* * *

"Well," John said, his voice a bit rough. "I'm never going to sleep again."

"I got you," Ronon told him, and tightened his arms just a bit. "And you know nothing bad's ever going to happen to Little Brother's band."

"Yeah?" John shifted, rolling his head back onto Ronon's shoulder. "You had me worried."

"You've heard it before," Ronon pointed out. "When we were watching Torren. You said _he'd_ never sleep again."

John didn't say anything for a long moment, and then answered slowly, "Did I?"

Ronon felt the slow burn of anger uncoil deep inside, but he just told John to shut up and get some sleep, he'd remember in the morning.

He woke with a start when the door was unlocked; John, curled up against him, was slower to rouse, even as Ronon dragged him to his feet.

Mahin brought them bowls of thick grey porridge, which John called library paste. Ronon forced him to gag down a few mouthfuls anyway. Ronon didn't find the lack of taste or texture a problem. He'd eaten worse when he was a runner: garbage, insects, tree bark, raw meat. They needed to keep their strength up, because unless rescue came soon, they'd have to escape on their own in the next few days. Ronon didn't like how disoriented the first day had left John; to him, the machine Bekon was trying to fix looked a lot like the one that had nearly Ascended McKay.

He thought that would make sense, insofar as the crap the Ancestors did ever made sense. The ship they were on looked a lot older than Atlantis, and as far as Ronon could see, only three rooms and the narrow service corridor had life-support. The echoes, creaks, and bangs rumbling all around them suggested the ship was much bigger, and the functional design suggested it was a work-ship. Ronon imagined spending his days trapped inside these walls. If he was given the choice between Ascension and going nuts, he'd choose to become one with the universe in a heartbeat.

Of course, the Ascension machine – if that was what it was – was old and broken. McKay had gotten superpowers; with John, the opposite was happening.

The second day passed the same as the first, and the third as well. But John was confused and forgetful, obviously terrified of Bekon and trying not to fuck up, but unable to follow more than the simplest orders. When Bekon finally stormed out in a rage, Ronon saw John slump in relief, bound hands curled around the edge of the console, head lowered in mute relief.

"You'll see blood tomorrow," Ronon told Mahin and Lula as they freed him, lowering his voice so it didn't carry. He was fairly sure they were decent people; he hoped so, anyway. "My buddy needs a doctor. Where I come from we say, a Taskmaster screaming can't make the broken-legged man run." He shrugged, loosening muscles stiff from inaction and fear. "Bekon's going to drop the knife out of anger but even then, Sheppard won't be able to do what he wants."

"You're from Sateda," Mahin said. "I've heard about Satedan training."

Ronon made a face. "This isn't training. This is torture." She winced, and Ronon grabbed the moment of connection. "Give us a couple days. If you can't face Larrin, get in touch with someone else, because Bekon's unstable, and he's going to kill me, kill Sheppard, and _still_ not have a usable ship."

Lula frowned. "The right incentive – "

"Is free will," Ronon snapped. He weighted his next words, balancing truth with necessity. "You need Lantean technicians. Sheppard knows fuck-all about these machines, but he'd sooner thumb his eyeballs out than fail as my Taskmaster."

"Bekon studied with the Genii," Lula said defensively. Mahin snorted her opinion and crossed the room to go get John.

Ronon leaned forward, just enough to get in the guy's space. "A genius like him should be able to learn a lot from the Lanteans, then."

Lula rolled his eyes and gave Ronon a shove towards the door, gesturing with Ronon's gun. Ronon really hated having his own weapon used against him. "He's the smartest guy willing to commit treason," he corrected, dryly. "There are smarter Travelers."

"Good," Ronon said. Message sent and received.

Mahin looked over from the platform, raising her chin to get Ronon's attention, and then shook her head once. John watched the exchange, and the key-chip dangling from her hand, with a stubborn line of worry between his eyes, and Ronon didn't know how to signal to him that things were going to be okay. He let Lula herd him out into the corridor instead; John wouldn't risk fighting unless he knew Ronon was safe.

Locked back in the safety of their cell, Ronon checked John over again, worried about some of the hard kicks John'd taken. John's bruises had new bruises, and he moved stiffly.

"You need to go," John said, and Ronon pulled him into a hug. He was pretty certain Lula and Mahin had a radio hidden somewhere; they were too ready to believe what he said, which meant that they must have another source of information. But he wished he could talk to John openly.

"Not going anywhere without you," Ronon said. "You know that."

John leaned his weight forward. and Ronon felt the faint good pressure of John's hands settling on his back. "The, the guy, our friend, he tells me exactly what he wants me to do, and I can't keep straight what to do next and what I've already finished. I'll be in the middle of doing something and look up for a second and lose the thread completely."

"You hit your head," Ronon said. That might even be the truth, and he wasn't about to burden John with his personal Ascension theories, especially since they terrified him. "And you're hungry and tired."

"Plus getting zapped all the time." John shook his head. "I feel like a lab rat. If I knew what the negative reinforcement was for, I'd quit doing – whatever."

"Ask the Ancients," Ronon suggested, and tugged John down to settle with him in the corner.

"I was trying to remember if Nancy married that guy yet. We got an invitation."

"Grant," Ronon said, figuring John wouldn't mind. John always forgot his name anyway. "That was after we left Earth. I think you sent a video."

John shook his head. "I remember thinking I wanted to see you in your suit again." He took a breath. "When did we start – " he waved his hand between their chests significantly – "this?"

"It was a long time starting," Ronon said. John made a disgruntled noise. "That time you were hurt and being an asshole because you couldn't do fun stuff. We were hanging out in your room and fighting over something stupid, and then we weren't. We didn't talk about it," he added. "Not until months later."

John's hand hovered and then settled, carefully, on Ronon's leg. "That actually sounds plausible."

"Go to sleep," Ronon said, rubbing John's hair affectionately. "I'll tell you a bedtime story."

* * *

_The Ring turns, the story begins._

_One there was a band where the strongest was also Wraith-blooded, and the smartest was also afraid, and the Taskmaster had lived as an outcast for many years. To an outsider they didn't seem like much, but they shared two things in common: eyes that saw beyond and faith that people would strive to be good more often than not._

_One day they passed through the Ring and each became separated from the other, and they were alone and taken prisoner._

_The strongest was bound and put in a memory-cave where every wall showed pictures of Wraith and death, and she was afraid. But she spoke to her captor of victory, and as he listened to her tales of great battles won, he began to fear less the defeats of the past._

_The smartest was set in a well with unclimbable walls, so deep that the sky above was a tiny circle. But when his captor saw how he shook and mocked him, he replied that he wasn't trembling, he was drawing plans on the wall. He thanked his captor for inspiring him to invent a machine for rising up out of deep places, and swore that together they could build it and bring down even Wraith hives, and his captor was humbled and confused._

_The Taskmaster was taken to a desert under a dying sun, where there was no shade or water. His captor told him that his band would die before he did, but the Taskmaster said, "I don't think so."_

_He reached his hand out and pulled a Wraith fang from his captor's heart, and he pressed his hand against the wound until it healed. Then he took travel-bread from his readybag and broke it in half. Offering his captor the larger piece, he asked him to join his band as their Little Brother._

_"I just tried to kill you and break your band," his captor said. "Why would you do me that honor?"_

_The Taskmaster smiled and said, "Because your traps show you see beyond appearances to what people truly are. And also because my strongest is tied up in a cave, my smartest is stuck in a well, and I have no idea how to get out of this desert to rescue either of them without your help."_

* * *

By Ronon's stomach-clock it was still the middle of the night when he heard the door unlock, but he roused immediately and pulled into an alert crouch, ready.

Mahin put the back of her hand over her mouth to indicate silence, and beckoned. Ronon nodded and stood, dragging John upright with him. John was barely able to keep his feet, but Ronon felt him drawing on the energy to square his shoulders and keep his head up, thinking it was another long day beginning.

Mahin led them the opposite way out of the cell, moving so lightly that her footsteps barely echoed. The corridor twisted, and turned into a bridge over a cavern that must have stretched the length of the ship. It was full of the Rings of the Ancestors, in a great line, as far as Ronon could see in either direction.

John glanced at Ronon, as if in question, and Ronon shrugged. McKay would love this place, and maybe Bekon was right, maybe it was full of great wisdom and power. But survival came first.

There was a ship-bay beyond the cavern, and Mahin palmed the doors open. Lula was waiting for them. His face was even more twisted than usual, and Ronon wondered if he just had a bad digestion.

"You're sure," Lula asked Mahin, who grimaced in answer. She waved Ronon and John over to the shuttle that was docked in the center of the bay. It looked like it had been made from wreckage, a real Traveler vessel – ingenuity that shouldn't be able to fly, but somehow did. Lula sighed, and waved them inside. There were elaborate belt-harnesses for each seat, and Ronon strapped himself in tightly next to John. Bekon was curled up on a blanket in the center of the floor, head on his arm, snoring lightly and drooling onto his sleeve.

"Your gun," Lula said by way of explanation. "It's easier to conceal than a Wraith stunner."

"And you're giving it back," Ronon told him. "Or I'll break both your arms and _take_ it back."

"Once we get where we're going." Mahin gave them both a stern quelling glare, and then settled back into her seat, hands moving lightly over the controls.

The shuttle door shut, the bay doors twisted open, and Mahin piloted the shuttle out into space. Lula entered a Ring code – the keys stuck, and he had to start over once because the _eera_ symbol accidentally doubled – and the Ring floating outside came to life just in time for them to pass through.

They emerged from another space gate, and Lula flicked his fingers through a holographic display until a pre-programmed course popped up.

"Our people are there," Mahin said, pointing at the speck on the space chart. It grew on the display in front of them until Ronon could see a large blue planet, marbled with clouds. It reminded him of Earth, except that the land masses were more broken up. "Larrin says there's no room for them on the ships. We lost ships" – she glared at John, who stared back expressionless – "and now people have to wait. But two worlds of _our_ people have been culled already. We couldn't... we _deserve_ a ship of our own."

"Your people have an Ancestral Ring in their settlement?" Ronon asked, because that was important. If they didn't, he'd have to try and incapacitate Lula and Mahin now, and hope John could figure out how to fly them to safety.

"Of course. Rings are something we have plenty of," Lula answered dryly. "We have more Rings than children, now."

"Lul," Mahin said, low like a caution.

"That ship," Lula said, jerking his head back in anger, "was our only hope for survival. But after so many months we still don't have hyperdrive, or shipwide shields. Environmental's a mess. Every day that passes raises the risk of discovery by Wraith. And we can't call on anyone for help. We had Bekon, he had you, but still – nothing."

"My people will help," John said, rubbing his head wearily. "Why doesn't anyone in this galaxy ask first, instead of threatening right off the bat?"

"Cause it works," Ronon answered, and bumped his arm against John's. "Sorry about that."

"You're such a... you know." John closed his eyes and shifted so his head was supported between his shoulder and the restraining strap. "Wake me up when we get there."

"Tell another story," Lula said, and then darkened when Mahin snickered behind her palm. "Satedans are famous for stories," he went on defensively. "There was a Satedan woman in my childhood home – you wouldn't laugh at her. She'd have her knife out and shave a stripe in your hair in half a second."

"Shut up," Ronon suggested; not angrily, though, because it was kind of funny that the only intel the Travelers had gained from bugging their cell had been stories. He bet Bekon had been furious.

* * *

_The Ring turns, the story begins._

_This is a story of a band of all women, for the fastest was a woman, and the smartest, and the Taskmaster, and I hear that their mothers were all women as well. The youngest of the band was Little Sister, and she was always picking things up because they might be useful someday._

_The band heard about a great city of the Wraith, and traveled there meaning to cause great harm. The fastest carried two swords, the smartest carried explosives, the Taskmaster had a great gun at her hip, and Little Sister had knives in her hair, some pocket handkerchiefs she'd found, a fistful of pretty stones, a child's whistling-top, and a well-polished spoon._

_As the band went along, a Wraith patrol came by and captured the fastest, the smartest, and the Taskmaster, and put them in their great steel wagon. Little Sister hid under her spoon and the Wraith passed it over, for they thought it was a useless thing._

_When the Wraith had moved on, Little Sister ran fast through the woods around them, to come out ahead of their path to the city. She lay down and pulled a handkerchief up over her like a quilt, and looked for all the world like she was enjoying a good sleep._

_When the Wraith saw her, they stopped their wagon. "It is only a child," they said, and sent a foolish guard down to fetch her. But when he came close Little Sister threw two stones and put out his eyes, and he called to the Wraith, "Another will have to get her, it's too dark for me to see."_

_So another guard was sent, and another, and yet another, and in their confusion they attacked and fed on each other, until they were dead, and Little Sister hid their bodies in a hole. Finally, the Wraith Taskmaster came out himself, and called for his men. Little Sister set her whistling-top to spinning, and said, "Listen, the cowards are fleeing through the Ring!" The Wraith Taskmaster turned to look, and in that one second she threw a knife that took his head clean off._

_So Little Sister went into the steel wagon, and she found weapons in the front and her band in the back. When her Taskmaster asked her to report, Little Sister said, "Picking things up is just a habit I cannot break. But today I have picked up these fine swords, and this pack of explosives, and this gun, and a steel Wraith carriage, so I hope you can forgive me."_

_And her Taskmaster said to Little Sister, "Never change," and she never did._

* * *

The shuttle rocked as it entered the planet's atmosphere, badly enough that Ronon had to step on Bekon in order to keep him from rolling across the floor. He was glad when they finally set down and he didn't need to worry about the shuttle falling apart; Lula was as bad a pilot as Beckett. John was woken by the shuddering descent and the hard thump of ground beneath the shuttle, and he muttered _Thank god that's over_ to Ronon under his breath.

They untangled themselves from the straps and disembarked into crisply cold air. They were at one end of a meadow, and the Ring stood at the other end, propped up inside a wooden scaffold. The Traveler settlement wasn't visible, but Ronon hadn't expected it would be. He hoped their houses were well hidden.

"Here," Lula said, and proffered Ronon's gun grip first. "Because we're allies now, of a sort."

"Thanks," Ronon said, not grabbing even though he wanted to. He gave the gun a quick check, and then dropped Lula and Mahin with two quick shots. John spun on him, confusion bleeding out in anger, and Ronon was stung by how clearly he saw lack of faith in John's eyes. It wasn't like he'd had an opportunity to explain the plan to John; he hadn't even been able to speak straight with Lula or Mahin. He reminded himself that John wasn't at his sharpest right now, and swallowed his own impatience. "They're stunned. They won't see where we're dialing, and Bekon can think we escaped without their help." He gave John a hard look. "This is how it had to happen."

John took a breath, blew it out, and nodded, mouth tight. "Okay. I just... it sucks not being in the loop."

"Yeah," Ronon said – not entirely without sympathy – and dialed the Ring.

He brought them back through seven Rings, because that was what he'd been taught. John followed without a word of complaint, even though when they finally arrived at the Alpha Site Ronon had to sling his arm around John's waist to steer him in a straight line.

John didn't remember the names of the Marines who were guarding the gate, but he knew the protocols they had to follow and made sure they didn't cut corners. Ronon put up with the security scans and the pre-medical because he knew they made sense, but all he could think of was that all these people were standing between him and a long-overdue meal. He didn't handle hunger well.

When they were finally cleared, and walked back into Atlantis to cheers and smiling faces, Ronon felt like something heavy had lifted. John leaned into him and muttered, "Home sweet home," and Ronon waved off the nurses hovering with wheelchairs. They'd made it this far; they could walk a little further.

Jennifer spent a couple hours looking at John's skull and brain, using Earth and Ancient tech. Ronon'd been cleared to eat, and there was a pushcart from the dining hall loaded down with stuff for him and John. He set aside John's portions carefully, and ate every scrap of his share, mopping up the last of the sauce with his fingers. No one said anything, but one of the nurses left a box of damp towels by his elbow, pointedly.

Woolsey came down, and Ronon gave his report. He was told Teyla was offworld with Rodney and Lorne's team, following another lead in their search and rescue mission. Ronon informed Woolsey that there was a Traveler informant in Atlantis, and Woolsey made a thoughtful _hmm_ through pursed lips.

"I'll give that to Lorne to pursue when he returns. A spy might prove... useful. We've been trying to let him know you rescued yourselves, but their next dial-in isn't for another few hours," Woolsey added. He had dark circles under his eyes; Ronon guessed he wouldn't be sleeping much this night, either. "It sounds as if you handled the situation remarkably well, despite the circumstances, if you don't mind me saying so."

"No one died," Ronon agreed. "And their ship's full of Rings. That's got to be useful."

"We're not telling Dr McKay until he's had at least eight hours of sleep." Woolsey drummed his palms on his knees and then stood. Ronon nodded goodbye, and as Woolsey walked away, started peeling another sourfruit.

He wasn't that hungry anymore, but it gave him something to do with his hands. And reminded him that the Travelers had taken his knives. Fortunately, since he'd been going on vacation, he'd only been carrying his third-best set. He could probably get John to order him more knives from Earth.

He was still idly thinking about knives when Jennifer brought John out. He came straight to Ronon, sat down at his side, and grabbed the sourfruit.

"You can eat," Jennifer said, smiling a little as John held the fruit up in question. "Just... maybe not all of this?" She studied the food trays, the vegetables and meat and bread, and the three kinds of dessert. "Maybe not even half of it."

Ronon suspected that Jennifer knew about him and John. She didn't tell Ronon to get lost, anyway, which was good.

"I want you to stay here tonight for observation," Jennifer said to John. "Just to be safe."

John glanced at Ronon, who shoved to his feet in a sudden surge of rage.

"Yeah, no," Ronon said. Jennifer met his eyes unflinchingly, her expression severe, and Ronon shoved his hands into his hair, pushing it back, words eluding him. "He needs to sleep in a familiar place, so he wakes up and _knows_."

"I'm a big boy," John said quietly, but there was a sharp warning edge to his voice.

Ronon wasn't buying it, and looking at John he didn't know why John was acting like he didn't understand. "We've been keeping each other alive," he said, slow, and embarrassed to say this in front of Jennifer. "And I know how bad it'll fuck _me_ up to wake in the dark and not know you're still breathing."

His words made John look away, but Jennifer huffed out a breath and put a hand on Ronon's arm. He couldn't hold back the twitch.

"How about this," she said. "I'll give you John's medications and the schedule, you _both_ get a good night's rest, and I'll see John again in the morning." She looked at Ronon. "We'll schedule counseling sessions for you two then, as well."

"Crap," John said, making a face, and sipped gingerly at the sweet-spice soup.

Ronon was relieved, though. He didn't want to have to fight with Jennifer to get John free.

"Sounds good," he said, and settled in to watch John eat.

John made fairly good inroads on his dinner before he started to nod off, so Ronon didn't feel bad about pushing the cart away and pulling John to his feet. The walk down to John's quarters was quiet; Ronon hadn't realized how late it was.

"I need a shower," John said as soon as the door had shut behind them, and started stripping before Ronon could ask if Jennifer had approved of that. He tossed his clothes into the box he used for laundry and raised an eyebrow at Ronon. "You, too."

"You just want to make me do your hair," Ronon said, but it was a half-assed protest. He liked messing with John's hair: it was so short and undisciplined.

Showering took longer than usual, as did dressing for bed and cleaning teeth. While John took his medicine, Ronon dragged John's bed over next to his sofa and velcro-tied the legs together. With an exercise mat folded over the sofa and a sheet tucked all around, it made a serviceable two-person bed. He plumped the pillows and dropped them down.

"I'm just going to crash," John said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "But... thanks for being here. All along."

Ronon turned out the lights. "I thought Bekon's machine was going to make you Ascend," he said. Admitting it was easier in the dark. "Like McKay, that time. I thought it was stealing pieces of you away."

"Hey," John said, and his hands found Ronon unerringly. He stretched out and pulled Ronon down, and Ronon had to catch himself quickly with his hands to keep from falling on top of John and his bruises. "Ascension's not my style. I've got too much to live for."

Ronon kissed him, trying to let John know that he was going to stop being afraid eventually, and they'd be fine, this would be just one more thing that they'd survived. He touched John's damp hair and rubbed the stubble that was halfway to a beard, and traced John's collarbone, his arm, his hand. When he reached John's fingers John grabbed his hand and held on tight.

The long kiss finally drew to an end, and by then John's body was fitted to Ronon's almost seamlessly. John said sleepily, "I can never figure out which one of us is supposed to be the Little Brother in your stories."

Ronon yawned. "Everyone wants to be Little Brother. He's cool."

"Hey," John said, and then was cut off by a yawn of his own. "I thought Taskmasters were cool."

Ronon shrugged. "The cool Taskmasters are cool. Some of them are just dicks." And then, before John could keep arguing stupid stuff – because _of course_ Ronon was the Little Brother of John's team, it was obvious – he laced his fingers together with John's and started:

_The Ring turns, and the story begins._


End file.
